Stay With Me, Pretty Boy
by Nolo Laborare Sed Volo Legere
Summary: Four minutes earlier, and maybe he wouldn't have pulled the trigger. Warning: Major Character Deaths, and mentions of suicide.


**Disclaimer: Do I look like I own _Criminal Minds_? Wait, do not answer that... you cannot actually see me. Nevertheless, I do not own _Criminal Minds._**

**A/N: This the second fan-fiction that I have ever written, so any support/tips/pointers anyone has to offer would be greatly appreciated. **

Blood. So much blood.

Reid. The blood was Reid's.

Morgan finally found the source of the blood and pressed his hands firmly down on Reid's stomach. The bullet had come from nowhere- one minute, they had been exiting the jet, laughing, Morgan's arm slung around Reid's shoulders; the next, the sound of metal ripping through flesh, Reid's eyes wide with shock and quickly registering pain, and blood. So much blood.

Hotch, Blake, and JJ had immediately drawn their weapons, ducked behind the nearest SUV's, and attempted to locate the shooter. Rossi, who hadn't gotten past the exit of the jet, dropped his bags and grabbed his phone, and had started making frantic calls for assistance.

Morgan was shielding Reid. He hadn't even taken his gun out, he simply dropped with Reid, turning himself away from where the shot had been fired, so that he was between Reid and the unseen sniper. His back was an easy target, but Morgan didn't care. His main concern was Reid.

Reid.

Reid- Morgan forced back his tears and his panic so that he could better help Reid. Reid, who was gasping in pain and had no real grasp of what was going on. Morgan grit his teeth, pressing harder on the wound. He heard shots being fired, but he ignored them, focusing only on Reid.

"Come on Reid, stay with me now. It's gonna be alright, now, just stay with me," he practically begged.

"Morg'n?" Reid slurred.

"I'm right here, pretty boy. Right here."

"It hurts, Morgan. Make it stop hurting, Morgan, please."

Morgan's heart clenched. He'd do anything, _anything, _to stop Reid's pain right now, but he was powerless.

"I know it hurts, kid, I know. Just don't think about. Come on now, don't close your eyes, stay with me."

Morgan pressed harder, but there was just so much blood. It was all over his hands, the ground. All over Reid.

Reid, who was dying, and Morgan could do nothing to stop it.

"Morg'n?"

"Yeah, pretty boy?"

"I think I'm dying. I think, I'm dying, Morgan. Don't let me-"

"I'm not going to let you die, you hear me? You are not dying. Nu-uh, not today, you hear me doc?"

The shooting had stopped. The sniper had been taken down, and Rossi had paramedics on the line, telling him that they were ten minutes out.

Reid didn't have ten minutes.

"Reid?" Morgan's voice was full of fear.

"Not dead yet, Morg'n. ah- that hurts, Morgan, don't." Reid's voice was blurry and full of pain.

"I have to Reid. I have to stop the blood." Morgan's voice cracked, and he was barely able to choke back his tears.

The team was gathered around Morgan and Reid. They anxiously watched for the ambulance, desperate, but accepting the fact that they couldn't do anything that wasn't already being done.

"Morgan?"

"I'm right here, kid," was the response.

"Make sure my mother is taken care of, please. Tell Garc'a to give her the tape."

"Reid, you're going to be fine."

Reid was not going to be fine.

Morgan slowly took his hands off the wound. He would never give up on Reid, but at this point the pressure was just causing Reid more pain.

"Morg'n, don't leave me!" Reid was panicked.

"I'm not going anywhere, Reid. I'm just trying to help the pain a little."

"Oh. Th'nk you, M'g'n. I don' wanna die alone."

"Never, kid. I'm right here. You're going to be fine, ok? Medics are on their way, kid."

Morgan was lying. Reid was past the point of no return. Morgan knew they would be lucky if he even got on the ambulance.

Reid knew Morgan was lying.

"Morg'n?"

"yeah?"

"Thank you. Thank you for being my friend, my brother," Reid grasped Morgan's bloody hand as tightly as he could- which at the moment was barely tight at all.

"Of course, Reid. I'll always have your back," Morgan forced the words out, trying not to let Reid see him cry.

"Reid?"

Reid didn't answer. His fingers went slack in Morgan's hands, and his eyes stared unseeing at the sky.

Morgan finally let the tears fall. He punched the ground, anger taking over. He felt a hand- Rossi's- on his shoulder. Morgan let out an angry, choked sob. Reid wasn't supposed to die, not until he was old and feeble and had accomplished all his goals, not until he had actually lived a life.

Morgan heard JJ sobbing. He knew she would be leaning on Blake, who would be crying silently. Hotch had come next to him, kneeling down next to Reid- next to Reid's body. Hotch reached over, used his shirt sleeve to gently wipe the blood from Reid's mouth, and had carefully shut the young doctor's eyes.

The medics finally arrived. Four minutes too late.

Four minutes earlier, and maybe Morgan wouldn't be comforting a utterly devastated Garcia as she sobbed in his embrace.

Four minutes earlier, and maybe Morgan wouldn't be leaving, wouldn't be quitting, unable to face the BAU without seeing Reid at his desk in the bullpen.

Four minutes earlier, and maybe Morgan wouldn't be at Reid's apartment, silent tears streaming down his face as he looked at the home of his fallen friend.

Four minutes earlier, and maybe Morgan wouldn't be driving to every used bookstore in town, trying to recover the books that he had dumped in a donation box in a fit of raw agony, sadness, and anger.

Four minutes earlier, and maybe Morgan wouldn't be standing in his best suit, listening to bagpipes play Amazing Grace at the funeral of his friend.

Four minutes earlier, and maybe Morgan wouldn't be punching out walls and destroying hours and hours of work at his property because if it weren't walls, it would be something else. Maybe it would be those goddamn medics instead.

Four minutes earlier, and maybe Reid would be sitting next to him in that coffee shop, drinking the second coffee that Morgan had ordered out of habit, and had started to pour insane amounts of sugar into, until reality struck like a wrecking ball and left Morgan staring at that cup of coffee like it had killed a man.

Four minutes earlier, and maybe Morgan would still be talking to Garcia, who had screamed at him for quitting, which led to him hanging up on her and eventually slamming his door in her face when she tried to stop him from quitting altogether.

Four minutes earlier, and maybe Morgan wouldn't, still even years later, turn to ask Reid about a random statistic, before remembering he was gone, and shuting down for a while from the pain and guilt.

Four minutes earlier, and maybe Morgan would have been able to fight off the nightmares, nightmares about all the times Reid had been hurt, including that last time. Nightmares about watching his father die in front of him. Nightmares about Carl Buford and all the things that that terrible man had done to him when he was a boy.

Four minutes earlier, and maybe Morgan wouldn't have been haunted by all the ghosts of his past.

Four minutes earlier, and maybe Morgan wouldn't have stuck a gun in his mouth.

Four minutes earlier, and maybe Morgan wouldn't have pulled the trigger.


End file.
